WBY Water and Oil Don't Mix
by wildblueyonder6
Summary: Characters:  Bobby, John, Sam & Dean. PG Summary:  A hot summer day and an out of control water fight means trouble for the Winchester boys. Parental spanking of a minor. Please don't read if this offends.


Title: Water and Oil Don't Mix

Author: Wildblueyonder

Character: Sam, Dean, John and Bobby

Rating: PG

Summary: A hot summer day and an out of control water fight means trouble for the Winchester boys.

It stars out innocently enough. It's hot and the boys are just trying to make the best of a bad situation. In typical Winchester fashion, they make due, they improvise. Bobby's place doesn't have pool but he does have a hose. And like kids everywhere, a hose can be a blessing in 100 plus heat. Both Sam and Dean are running around in their cutoffs and no shirts. They've got on ratty sneakers because Bobby's place is a junkyard and Dad says odds are someone's gonna step on something so fucking nasty it could take out a were.

The boys had laughed at that.

They can still laugh at stupid stuff. Dean is fourteen and the big bad older brother but when faced with Sam and the hose turned on full force, he giggles like he's seven.

"Boys!" Dad yells from the front porch.

"Yes, sir?" Both Sam and Dean turn to face their father, dripping wet and standing in puddles of what is probably motor oil and dirt.

"You two be careful out there. And don't drag that…." John waves vaguely at the slimy mess that his children appear to be standing in. "Whatever it is, in the house. Make sure you're dried off before you come in too."

"Yes, sir." They agree happily and then he goes back in with a small smile on his face.

"So are you ready to face the "Wicked Water God of Doom"? Sam has the hose crimped behind his back.

"Bring it, hose boy."

Sam pulls the hose out and brandishes it like a sword letting the built up pressure send a deluge onto his brother. Dean fakes a pissed off look and dives at Sam. They wrestle in the mud, water spraying everywhere as Sam is tackled and finds himself sliding face first in the muck.

Dean gains control of the water, it's not that hard really, Sam is pretty little and Dean is pretty strong. He pushes his thumb over top of the hose and the water sprays out hard on Sam's face. Sam sputters and tries to avoid the stinging spray but Dean is relentless.

"Wicked Water God of Doom? More like Wussy Water Wimp." Dean gloats and applies more pressure to the hose.

"Cut it out, Dean!" Sam knows he's being a baby but between the mud, the oily muck on the ground and the water in his face, his eyes are stinging and he can't see. He didn't buy into blindness, just a water battle.

"What you can dish it out but can't take it huh?" Dean laughs and moves in closer. Sam scrambles to his feet and runs up Bobby's back porch hotly pursued by Dean and the hose. Sam slams the kitchen door as he runs in and Dean trails with the hose offering on last blast of water before he realizes he _is in the house. _It happens so quick - Sam's running, Dean's running and then Dean sees both his father and Bobby standing dripping wet in the kitchen surrounding by what is possibly the oldest looking documents and books Dean has ever seen.

Everything is wet. Sopping, dripping wet. Not just his brother who is standing at the end of a trail of muddy, blackened footsteps but his father, Bobby and what is probably a gazillion dollars worth of sacred hunter papers.

"BOYS!" Both his father and Bobby roar at the same time. The kitchen just about shakes with the volume of it.

Dean quickly clamps the hose off but it still drips…loud thick splats of water drop in the sudden stillness of the kitchen.

"Sorry." Dean's voice is soft and shocked at the same time. Sam literally squeaks -that is the only sound that fits.

"OUT!" That's Bobby and he points to the back door where Dean is already back peddling and Sam runs across the pre-tracked floor, slides into his brother living a skid mark of questionable muck. He hits Dean in his haste to get out the door and they both trip down the steps. Dean looses his grip on the hose and the pressured water shoots out again almost like a fire hose spewing water all over the back porch and back through into the kitchen.

Then it's Sam and Dean sitting on their asses in the mud at the base of the back door. Well, except that Sam has kind of landed on Dean.

Sam turns to Dean, "We're gonna die. Die as in dead."

Dean risks a glance up the steps to see his father and Bobby through the doorway trying to dry off parchment papers with dishrags and paper towels.

"Yup. Dead." Dean pushes Sam off into the muck and scrambles up quickly double timing it to the water even as he hears his father yell from the back door. "Turn that god damned water off!"

"Yes, sir!" He yells over his shoulder, sliding to the faucet and frantically turning the water off. There's some kind of brain fart though – Righty tighty, lefty loosy? Shit, it should not be this hard! Finally he gets it turned off and then makes his way back to Sam who still is stunned, sitting in the mud.

Dean leans down and offers a hand to his brother. "I think I'd almost rather stay here in the mud." Sam laments but he takes Deans hand and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

A moment later John storms down the steps, unbuckling his belt and walking at the same time.

Well, shit.

He grabs Sam first. Sam always gets it first and with a quick yank of his cutoffs the boy is almost completely naked. Quick and fast the belt licks Sam's ass. Sam has no doubt his father isn't using every ounce of his strength, he knows monsters drop when John Winchester swings but it doesn't make it feel any better. Plus he's wet and something about the water and the belt makes for a sting he has never felt before. He yelps and tries to get away but that isn't an option. Sam howls. He's never gotten a belt licking before, never and this is so much worse that his father's hand.

"'M'sorry!"

"I'm sure you are but that's not gonna help your Uncle Bobby's stuff now is it? Damn it, Sam. You know better!"

John lays another lick down hard and then pushed Sam in the general direction of the hose. "Get your butt over than and rinse off…then when you're clean enough, get yourself in that kitchen and start scrubbing that floor. "

"Yes, sir!" Sam yells and runs off to the hose holding up the front of his cutoffs but his as is still hanging out in the wind. It's cherry red and if Dean wasn't so worried about his own, he might sympathize

John spins on Dean. Dean's already dropping trou. He doesn't want his father to strip his cutoffs down like he did Sam. John sends a scorching shot at the naked ass in front of him and Dean literally jumps. His entire ass gets tagged in one lick and the belt wraps around his right hip just a bit. "Did you even hear me say to keep it outside?"

Dean nods. The belt has taken away his ability to talk.

"Can't hear your had rattle son."

"Yes, sir! I heard, I'm sorry."

"Well, you obviously didn't understand then. I hope you do now." John punctuates the last word with another sharp crack and fuck if it doesn't feel like there is a line of fire on his ass. "You and your brother have single handedly managed to fuck up most if not all of the research Bobby and I have been doing all weekend. – All because you just had to keep on with a damn water fight."

"Well, when you say it that way…"

"There's no other way to say it, Dean!" John is holding Dean's arm, not that Dean is really moving all that much, it just steadies him so there is a better target. Not that he needs a better target, Dad is pretty good at finding Dean's ass. Dean knows his father is careful with the belt. It doesn't feel like it of course, but he knows where every stripe lands and despite how thoroughly he paints his ass and the top of his thighs it never hits anything else. Which is a good thing…Dean would hate like hell to have his junk whacked in that kind of way. Dean tries not to cry. He's freaking fourteen but it doesn't matter, Dad is going to spank until he cries and then some.

Finally, John stops and transfers the belt to his left hand…then with unerring accuracy, he plants a strong swat bare handed to that red ass.

"Get yourself cleaned up and then help your brother with the kitchen."

John threads the belt back through his belt loops with the same easy movement he had taking it out. Slower though Dean thinks, because Dad can pull that belt out with a speed that should be illegal. He spins, face almost as red as both boys' butts and stomps into the kitchen.

Dean pulls his cutoffs up just as Sam peaks around the corner of the house, hands wrapped protectively around his stinging rear end.

"Do you wanna rinse off?" Sam is subdued, but that's not unusual, John Winchester whippings just naturally subdue both boys.

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean turns the hose on, sprays it over his head and lets the water wash away the tears. Not that it matters. Sam knows Dean has been crying and Lord knows Dean heard Sam.

"I'm sorry, I ran in the house, Dean. I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry I squirted you in the face…you had all that shit on your face, you looked like some crazy ass commando or something. In fact you still do."

Dean reaches up and wipes a smudge of oil off Sam's face then wipes it down his wet shorts.

"It was fun for a while though eh, kiddo?" Dean grins and how he manages it, Sam wouldn't know.

"Yeah, until it wasn't." But Sam smiles too. It was kind of fun. He continues on, "I guess we better get in there and clean up that kitchen huh?"

"Yeah, I'm not looking forward to it."

"Why, Dean? It's only mud, some sludge and water."

Dean rubs his ass, mimicking his brother's earlier motion.

"Yeah, but now we gotta deal with Uncle Bobby."

They both look through the screen door to see a scowling Bobby standing there with his arms crossed.

Dean wraps an arm around his brother. "I'd almost rather have another licking. That man can think of some crazy ass punishments."

Sam nods, "Let's hope he doesn't make us do that Latin translation stuff – remember that took us both almost three days the last time."

Dean looks at Bobby one more time and whispers low to Sam, "I think we better plan on a week."

end.


End file.
